An Alternate Universe
Evelyn
The late afternoon sky had cleared of clouds after Nico left and was now a deep Prussian blue, which I took to be a good sign. The sun had come out, but it lacked warmth. Still, it had brightened everything up.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I said to Dante suddenly.
He looked at me as if I was crazy. “I’m busy.”
He’d been working on his laptop, which I guessed he’d hot-spotted to his phone for an internet connection, while I’d gone back to my book.
“Come on. It’s just a stroll. I’ve been stuck in this cabin all weekend.” Well, apart from the self-defense lessons this morning, which had left me stiff and achy. A walk would help iron out the kinks.
“I said no.” He looked back at the screen.
I put my hands on my hips. “You worried I’ll run away?”
He shrugged. “You are being held against your will.”
“Can I get that in writing?” I asked.
He smirked.
“What if you constrained me?” I asked, as an idea struck me.
Now I had his attention. “You want me to tie you up?”
“Only for a short while. You know those zip ties you used on me when you brought me here? We could tie our wrists together, then I wouldn’t be able to get away.”
He gave me a long, hard stare.
“Come on,” I pleaded. “Don’t be a grouch. It’s just a walk.”
“I am not a grouch,” he said grouchily.
I crossed my arms. Oh yeah?
He gave an exaggerated sigh and stood up. “Fine. I guess it won’t hurt. But any funny business and I’ll make you regret it.”
Yes!
One more little victory for me. Not that I was counting.
Okay, so I may not have thought it through.
Being tied to Dante was a special kind of torture all of its own.
He’d taken me at my word and zip-tied our wrists together, but the problem was, now I was hyperaware of his arm against mine, his strong masculine heat, his arm hair tickling the back of my hand.
With every step came a jolt of electricity as we touched.
I could tell by the tight set of his jaw that he wasn’t enjoying it much either. I tried to relax, but that just made me rub against him more.
We set off in the direction of the tree line. Dante struck a fast pace and I was almost running to keep up with his long gait.
“Can we slow down?” I puffed. “This is supposed to be a leisurely stroll, not a race.”
“You’re the one who wanted to be tied to me,” he muttered, but he slowed his pace nonetheless.
We walked in silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts. Dante wasn’t a big talker at the best of times, so I tried to forget about him and listened to the outdoor sounds. I hadn’t heard them in a while.
A light breeze rustled through the long grass and somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
It was pretty out here, in a remote kind of way, and I wondered if the cabin had always been used for…
well, to dispose of people. It was such a shame.
It could have been a really peaceful getaway from the chaos of the city.
“How well do you know Chloe?” he asked, after we’d been walking for about ten minutes.
“Chloe? Why?”
“Just answer the question.” His brow was furrowed, an expression I was used to by now, except this was a little different. He looked worried.
“She’s my friend. I know her really well.”
“How long have you known her?”
“I hired her a couple of years back. She’s competent, always on time, and does a great job. She’s supportive, and she’s always got my back.” I glanced across at him. “Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “Wondering if she could have leaked the shipment details, that’s all. Maybe she’s working for Malakov, or someone in Central America.”
“Heavens, no!” I shook my head so hard I nearly dislocated my neck. “Chloe wouldn’t do that. She’s a good person. Besides, she doesn’t have access to the logistics system. Alberto handles that.”
The thought that Chloe was involved was ludicrous.
“She couldn’t have logged in when nobody was around?”
“Not unless she knew Alberto’s password, and he’s paranoid about that. Besides, they aren’t friends. Alberto works mornings and he’s always in the back office. Chloe’s on the gallery floor. They may say hello to each other, but I don’t recall ever seeing them have a conversation.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t know each other,” he said cagily.
“Chloe is not involved,” I said with finality. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t deserve to have her life torn apart.”
Like mine.
Apart from being my best friend, Chloe was literally running the gallery while I was… indisposed. I needed her there, or we’d both be without a job.
“I’ll leave her alone, but Nico is going to check her out.”
“Speaking of Chloe, I need to tell her I won’t be in this week,” I reminded him. “She’s going to be wondering where I am. We usually chat most days.”
“You work together.”
“We still text in the evenings. I told you, she’s my friend.”
He seemed perplexed by this. Obviously he didn’t have any close friends. No surprises there.
My phone was still lying under my bed, likely out of battery by now. Problem was, if the police or anyone tried to trace me, they’d assume I was at home, not stuck out here in the middle of nowhere with my sinfully gorgeous kidnapper.
“You can use my phone when we get back,” he said.
“Or you could just drive me back to my apartment and we can sort this mess out from New York?” I suggested reasonably. “That way I can open up shop tomorrow and nobody needs to know about this little… escapade.”
He glanced sideways at me. “Have you forgotten there are people out there who want you dead?”
I cringed and shook my head. “Are you sure you’re not overreacting? Maybe my place did genuinely get broken into, but the burglars were spooked and ran off or something. It doesn’t always have to be life and death.”
He grunted. “In my world it usually is.”
“Well, I’m not part of your world.”
He stopped walking and turned to face me. The tie on my wrist anchored me in place beside him.
“You are very much a part of my world now, Ophelia. I thought I made that clear. You know our business, which makes you complicit. You know about our shipments, and how we bring in our merchandise. You are involved up to your emerald-green eyeballs in Marcelli business, and you need to accept that.”
My heart pounded in my chest. How dare he tie me to his sordid world? But the truth of his statement stung. Whether I liked it or not, I knew too much.
“Or what?” I pressed, knowing I was playing with fire, but I needed to know what was in store for me.
He didn’t answer straight away.
“Dante? What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered, fear taking hold like an icy vise in my chest.
“Hopefully nothing,” he replied, but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was fixed on the dark treeline up ahead.
My heart plummeted and my mouth went dry. Here I’d been thinking we were working together to clear my name, so I could go home and get on with my life. Except the knowledge I had gained had made me a liability.
“In other words, if I don’t play ball, I’m dead?”
His jaw tightened, and a shadow crossed his face.
A horrifying thought struck me. Was I dead anyway? The Marcellis couldn’t afford to let me live. Not after this.
He started walking again, but I didn’t move. The zip-tie jerked his arm back.
“I want to go back to the cabin,” I said.
Suddenly this wasn’t fun anymore. The open space felt ominous, the treeline a symbol of where my body would probably be left when they got rid of me.
He didn’t argue. Just gave a nod and turned around.
“Told you this was a bad idea.”
We walked back without talking. He picked up the pace again, and this time I didn’t complain, although I had to keep breaking into a jog to keep up with him. Only the sound of our footsteps on the dry ground broke the silence.
We were halfway back when his phone rang.
Taking it out of his back pocket with his free hand, he held it to his ear. “Yeah?”
He listened, then scowled. “Are you sure?”
I turned to look at him. Judging by his thunderous expression, it wasn’t good news.
“Okay, thanks.” He hung up and, tight-lipped, pushed his phone back into his pocket.
“Who was that?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.
“Nico.” He turned his stormy eyes on me. “He managed to trace those Central American payments on your account to a company in Panama.”
“Okay…” I wondered where he was going with this. We already knew that much.
“Linked to a Colombian cartel.”
“Which cartel?” I asked, once Dante had finally come off the phone.
He’d been pacing the length of the small kitchen for ten minutes, like he was the prisoner, not me.
He’d called Vincent first, but my crooked accountant hadn’t picked up.
Then he’d called his mother, Valentina, who’d spent five solid minutes verbally taking him apart for lying to her about me.
In a different mood, I might have enjoyed watching the great Dante Marcelli get reprimanded.
From what I could gather, however, nobody knew anything about the Colombians’ involvement in my gallery. Not the Marcellis, not Vincent, and certainly not me.
Ironic, since it was my freaking gallery.
The way Dante was talking, you’d think the Marcellis owned the place.
“Dante.” I tried again. “Which cartel?”
“It doesn’t matter which one.”
“It does. Especially if they’re using my gallery to launder money.”
He looked over at me. “Los Santos Rotos, if you must know. And they’re using it for much more than that.”
I’d never heard of them. I sank down at the kitchen table and massaged my temples.
Then something clicked into place and I gasped. “Are Los Santos Rotos the same people you bought the cocaine from? The shipment you hid inside my container?”
He stopped pacing and braced both hands on the back of the chair across from me. His knuckles went white.
“Ophelia, you’re not supposed to know that.”
I ignored the fact he kept calling me that. I wasn’t supposed to know a lot of what I’d learned lately. I was already a liability, so what did it matter?
“Wait,” I said, frowning. “They sold you the drugs that were transported in the same consignment as the paintings they bought?”